


Christmas Bells Are Ringing

by LittleDelanceyDoll



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Canon Universe, F/F, F/M, Gen, It all depends on how I'm feeling, Like literally everyone, M/M, Some are shippy some aren't, Will include all characters, bc why not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-03 16:20:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8720500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleDelanceyDoll/pseuds/LittleDelanceyDoll
Summary: There are twenty five days of December before Christmas Day— twenty five cold days in Manhattan with Christmas trees, snow, and carols filling every street and borough. Likewise, this is the story of twenty five moments so dear to the people of the city.





	1. Day 1: Skittery

Skittery was never good at caroling. It didn't matter if it was Silent Night, Go Tell it On the Mountain, or God Rest You, Merry Gentlemen— he was always a little flat or off tempo. Not to mention, the newsies had a fun habit of constantly screeching the songs as off-key as possible in the mornings at night.

Trying to take a bath? They're singing.

Trying to play poker? They're singing.

Hiding in a bathroom stall because you can't get away from the singing? They're still. fucking. singing.

By the time Christmas came and went, he was happier than on the actual holiday, all because he'd get a little bit of sleep for once and not have to wake up to Snipeshooter screaming the chorus of "Angels We Have Heard On High" as he washed his hair. Call him a Scrooge all you'd like, he was happy enough to relax in his bunk or hide out at the deli until the holiday was finally over...

That is, until Tumbler rested his chin on the table and look up at him with wide brown eyes, looking like a puppy someone dumped into a puddle.

"Can we go caroling with the rest of the fellas?" He asked, all but putting on the fake British accent to convince him.

Skittery groaned in disgust, putting his head in his hands as he tried to ignore how the ten year old was resting his head on his shoulder, those damned brown eyes burning a hole in his skin.

"Fine, we can go caroling." Skittery may not like the season, but he sure as hell can't say no to the boy that had practically attached himself to his hip most of the time… although he sinks in his chair as he hears Jack whoop with excitement over his agreement.

Forget his feelings about caroling, he was more worried about the day he was going to kill that cowboy.


	2. Day 2: Crutchie

It was snowing. Crutchy knew it was the moment he woke up, his leg aching as he rolled over, about an inch of wet snow packed down on the cobbled sidewalks. Hell, half of him took one step out the door and decided that he'd rather go back inside and sleep the day away.

Then again, almost every time he woke up with his leg sore and the temperatures dropping, he wanted to go back to bed.

He pulled his jacket closer around him, trying to get some kind of warmth as the wind cut straight through the thin fabric. Even worse, his crutch was sliding on the ice, making it harder for him to get to work.

"'Ey, Crutchie, the hell are you doing?" Jack yelled, jogging to catch up to him. "Specs told me you left without us."

"It's gonna take me twice as long to get there, Jack; I might as well get a head start."

His feet skidded slightly, his crutch almost falling out from under him. Jack grabbed him before he could hit the ground, the two struggling to catch their balance as the slush shifted beneath them. Finally, the two seemed to be in the clear, Jack's face red from laughter

"I'll get a head start with you then," he said, fixing Crutchie's hat with a cocky grin. "Might as well— it's a lovely, gray, wet morning— we can enjoy the walk together."

Crutchie smiled, rolling his eyes as he began limping towards The World once again. "As long as you don't trip me again," he said, nudging Jack playfully.

He may hate the snow, but at least there was someone to make it a bit better… until Jack took three steps and fell.


	3. Day Three: Les Jacobs

"You mean that all of the lights and songs are because some baby was born in a barn?"

"It was the son of God, not just some baby!"

"How do you know that it was the son of God— all you had was some lady's word on it!"

"It's in the bible, that's how!"

Les didn't understand Christmas, but he understood the arguments between Snipeshooter and Crutchy even less. Snipe shooter was Pentecostal, Crutchy was Jewish… and their arguments got kinda angry after a while of arguing back and forth. He also didn't understand why Snipeshooter insisted on arguing about the bible when _he_  was the one who stole Racetrack's cigar all the time, but it wasn't a good time to bring that up. Every time he did, Snipeshooter told him he was directing the attention away from the real problem.

He told David that once. David replied, "the _real_  problem is that he doesn't practice what he preaches," under his breath. Les realized later on he wasn't supposed to hear that, so he let it go, and didn't bring it up to David.

His mother told him stuff like that was a sign that he was growing up.

Still, it was hard to listen to Snipeshooter and Crutchy argue about religion every time Christmas or Hanukkah came up. Les' family had always been Jewish, and he'd never celebrated Christmas before, yet their lives didn't seem any better or worse based on listening to Snipeshooter talk. He didn't know how a tree or Santa Claus worked in with the story of Jesus, although Jack had told him the story before.

According to Jack, Santa Claus was the one to bring a bunch of wise men to the barn, where they taught Mary and Joseph how to build a house out of a tree so they never had to have a baby with a bunch of cows and donkeys ever again. David told him that Jack made it up, but he liked to think that whoever Jesus was, he got a house to live in instead of a barn.

"Well maybe that's just how you believe!" Boots huffed, scowling angrily. He, like Les, couldn't care less about what anyone else believed. He'd been wanting to go have a snowball fight for a while, but they'd had to wait on the older boys to go with them. "C'mon, Snipe, if we don't go soon, all the snow will turn to slush."

Les smiled a bit brighter as Snipeshooter shrugged his shoulders after a moment of scowling at Crutchy, turning on his heel. "Let's go," he finally replied.

"Race you there!"

As Les left the lodging house, he couldn't help but laugh with excitement, the earlier argument melting off of his shoulders as he skidded around the corner. Who cared about Santa Claus and Christmas— he had his friends, and they'd stick with him no matter what the holiday was.


End file.
